re, nor think her
near so handsome as she passes for.--After dinner, Mr. Bertue(16) would
not let me put ice in my wine, but said my Lord Dorchester(17) got the
bloody flux with it, and that it was the worst thing in the world. Thus
are we plagued, thus are we plagued; yet I have done it five or six
times this summer, and was but the drier and the hotter for it. Nothing
makes me so excessively peevish as hot weather. Lady Berkeley after
dinner clapped my hat on another lady's head, and she in roguery put it
upon the rails. I minded them not; but in two minutes they called me
to the window, and Lady Carteret(18) showed me my hat out of her window
five doors off, where I was forced to walk to it, and pay her and old
Lady Weymouth(19) a visit, with some more beldames. Then I went and
drank coffee, and made one or two puns, with Lord Pembroke,(20) and
designed to go to Lord Treasurer; but it was too late, and beside I
was half broiled, and broiled without butter; for I never sweat after
dinner, if I drink any wine. Then I sat an hour with Lady Betty Butler
at tea, and everything made me hotter and drier. Then I walked home, and
was here by ten, so miserably hot, that I was in as perfect a passion as
ever I was in my life at the greatest affront or provocation. Then I sat
an hour, till I was quite dry and cool enough to go swim; which I did,
but with so much vexation that I think I have given it over: for I
was every moment disturbed by boats, rot them; and that puppy Patrick,
standing ashore, would let them come within a yard or two, and then call
sneakingly to them. The only comfort I proposed here in hot weather is
gone; for there is no jesting with those boats after it is dark: I had
none last night. I dived to dip my head, and held my cap on with both
my hands, for fear of losing it. Pox take the boats! Amen. 'Tis near
twelve, and so I'll answer your letter (it strikes twelve now) to-morrow
morning.

7. Morning. Well, now let us answer MD's letter, N.15, 15, 15, 15. Now
have I told you the number? 15, 15; there, impudence, to call names in
the beginning of your letter, before you say, How do you do, Mr. Presto?
There is your breeding! Where is your manners, sirrah, to a gentleman?
Get you gone, you couple of jades.--No, I never sit up late now; but
this abominable hot weather will force me to eat or drink something that
will do me hurt. I do venture to eat a few strawberries.--Why then, do
you know in Ireland that Mr. S